


You're Not Alone Anymore

by TinySentenceJournal



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinySentenceJournal/pseuds/TinySentenceJournal
Summary: After Black Friday, the survivors seek shelter at the home of Henry Hidgens. Tom finds his past may get in the way of his relationship with Becky. But Becky won't let that stop them.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	You're Not Alone Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Panic Attack, Triggers, PTSD, Gun Use, (implied) thoughts of s**c*de

The survivors of the Black Friday from Hell crammed into as few cars as possible as they drove to the edge of town. This meant Tom, Becky, Tim, Lex, Hannah, and some couple called Ted and Charlotte that worked with Paul were crammed into Tom’s car. Only being a five seater, Hannah and Tim were sat in Lex and Tom’s laps, while Becky drove. Paul and Emma were in Emma’s car with some other survivors, leading the way. Everyone was silent. Tom had tried the radio but everything was still down.

Becky followed Emma’s car, pulling into a long driveway. She parked beside Emma and everyone began getting out of the car, Lex having to wake Hannah up as she had fallen asleep at some point on the ride there.

The building in front of them was quite… different- from what they were expecting. It looked just like a regular house, maybe slightly larger than those in the nearby neighbourhoods, but still just a house. Emma walked over, closely followed by Paul and the rest of the survivors.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” Tom asked, eyeing the building.

“Yep. This is his place.” Emma looked at the skeptical looks on the others’ faces. “Don’t worry. It’s a lot more… sophisticated on the inside.” Tom shrugged, following Emma up to the front door, his son clutching his hand on his left.

Emma took a breath and glanced at Paul, before she knocked hard on the door twice. There was a beat and some shuffling, before a slightly raspy voice was heard.

“Who is it?” The voice said. Tom assumed it was the professor.

“Professor Hidgens!” Emma shouted. More shuffling.

“Don’t lie to me, whoever you are. I’m professor Hidgens!” The door slammed open. A man stood in the doorway, maybe 60, 70? Tom wasn’t paying much attention. He was much more focus on the gun in the man’s hand that was pointed directly at his chest. If anyone had noticed him tense up, they hadn’t said anything.

That was until Becky felt his hand on her wrist. Tight. Too tight. She, too, tensed up.

“Tom,” she whispered, trying to get his attention. But he was already too far gone. She saw it in the way he stood, tense, unmoving, how his eyes were wide and his breathing was ragged. She breathed, trying to remain in her rational mind.

Stanley’s gone, she told herself, it’s just Tom, just Tom.

“Emma.” she tried to get the small woman’s attention. She turned around, glancing at her. She beckoned with her head to Tom, who was now trembling slightly. Emma took one look at Tom and turned back to Hidgens quickly.

“Professor, it’s me, Emma Perkins, your student, could you please lower the gun Tom has PTSD.” She spoke so quickly it was hard to understand her, but apparently Hidgens did. He took a cautious look at the shaking man he held at gunpoint and lowered the gun slowly. Tom relaxed slightly, his grip on Becky’s wrist loosening and eventually letting go. Becky relaxed, looking at her… boyfriend? Were they dating now? They had literally fucked just hours ago… regardless, his relation to her was inconsequential to the fact that he was still very tense and barely able to remain upright from how much he was shaking. She took a breath, trying to regain control over her breathing, although up until that moment she hadn’t realised she’d lost it in the first place.

A rushed conversation, a couple jittery movements and compromises, and Hidgens finally gave in, moving to let the 15 or so people move into his house. Becky grabbed Tom’s hand as they walked. He looked at her, then straight at the ground. She did notice the tears that were welling up in his eyes. She squeezed his hand lightly as they entered.

“You okay?” She whispered. Stupid question, she knew he wasn’t. Still, he sniffled and looked up, smiling sadly and nodding.

“I’ll be fine.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath still shaky. They stopped, joining the crowd. Becky rested her head on his shoulder. Tom slowly recuperated, eventually just pulling her into his chest, holding her as close as he could, like if he let go he would lose her forever. Again. She’d missed this. Non-violent touch. Gentle touch. Tom’s touch. She’d always missed him, but she’d never realised how much. It gave her hope. Maybe, maybe, despite all the trauma, all the hell they’d been through, maybe they were still capable of happiness. Perhaps not even happiness, just something other than the emptiness they’d both been left with, a comfort in each other. Just something.

Hidgens gave a brief speech to everyone who had suddenly appeared at his house. It was surprisingly decent to say it must have been completely improvised, Becky noted. Then he had given a quick tour of his house. As it turned out, Emma was in fact correct when she said it was better on the inside. Hidgens has basically invented a practically indestructible force field around his house, which was actually disguising a four-story underground bunker. After everyone was clear on where everything was (the Professor had supplies to last literal years somehow stored in his bunker), they had sorted themselves into pairs to stay in each room. Tim was going to stay with another one of the child survivors, so Tom and Becky were sharing.

Tom had slipped away immediately after Hidgens had finished talking, Becky not far behind. As soon as Becky had closed the door behind her, Tom had sat down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and put his head in his hands. Becky had rushed over to him but he leaned away from her touch.

"I'm so sorry, Becky," he said, his voice still barely more than a whisper. He dropped his hands, so he was now hunched over as if he was praying.

"Tom it's alright, please don't blame yourself." He just shook his head, scowling at the floor.

"I did notice you flinch. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it, I was gone. I…" he scoffed, "I thought maybe, after 8 years, I'd be alright, but no. I'm still just as broken. I'm still a shell. It's still not okay. It'll never be okay."

Becky was on the verge of tears listening to him talking. She put a hand on his arm.

"You can't think like that. Tom, you went straight from this… this world of happiness… you went straight into this place full of destruction and violence and… you did what so many people would be too scared to do, to defend everything you lov-"

"Well I didn't do a very good job of that one, did I?" Tom spat, pulling his arm away harshly from Becky's hand. She flinched again, and for a second she thought that maybe Tom might hit her. Tom saw the look of pure fear in her eyes in that moment. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He stood up, walking away from her. He leaned his head against the dark wardrobe they'd share, not that they had any clothes other than the ones they were wearing, still facing away from her. She hadn't followed him. He spoke again, this time his voice shaking, broken. "You have no idea of what I experienced in Iraq, so don't try to understand, because it won't work. The men who died at my hand, the men I killed at the command of people I couldn't disobey, sure they were the enemy in the eyes of America, but what…" he paused, swallowing, "they had families too. I never thought about that until I lost Jane. All those wives, husbands, kids, who'd never see them again. Who's the bad guy now?

"I wish… I wish I'd never been deployed. I shouldn't have done it. Maybe if I hadn't I wouldn't be so…" he paused again. Becky heard a quiet sob escape his mouth, "broken. Maybe I wouldn't be such a deadbeat father. Maybe, for once… maybe something might have gone right.

"But I was terrified, because if I didn't, what would I have been? What am I actually good at, besides being a colossal fuck-up? I was scared I'd become one of those high school has-been people who spend their whole life working in a gas station and living off of memories and false hope but, huh, I guess that happened anyway."

Tom didn't even try to hide it this time as he choked back a sob.

"You deserve better than me. And maybe you don't realise that, because I understand, what Stanley did to you, it won't just disappear. But one day you're going to, and it's gonna kill me. So, please, get out now, before you get stuck with another man whose existence comes at the expense of your happiness."

Tom turned around to face Becky. His face was streaked with tears. Becky looked into the eyes of the man she loved, and she was sure of it now. She was still in love with Tom Houston. And maybe they were both broken, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to do everything in her power to rekindle the embers, even if the flame burned a different colour this time.

The second Becky made eye contact with him, Tom broke down completely, losing what was left of his composure. The look in Becky's eyes had sent him over the edge. He'd expected pity, but he couldn't see a trace of it in her eyes. He collapsed, his body shaking as he sobbed. He found himself unable to breathe, gasping for air. He hated this. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end so badly.

Just make it stop. Make it stop.

Useless. Pathetic. Murderer.

He felt Becky's arms wrap around him. Tom held onto her like she was his only lifeline, and at this point she was. She held him tightly, sobbing quietly herself.

"Never," she whispered, so quietly she wasn't sure if he heard it.

"I'm so sorry," Tom repeated, over and over, "I'm pathetic."

"No, you're not." Becky said in reply each time. After a good 10 or so minutes of the two of them sobbing on the cold floor, she pushed away from him. He wouldn't look at her. "Tom, look at me." He looked up to meet her eyes. "I've been working with injuries of all kinds for years, mental and physical. No one comes out the same as they were before, that's what trauma does. But it doesn't make you any less of a person, okay?" Tom nodded, his eyes now bloodshot and swollen from crying, but he did feel considerably better to say he'd just had a panic attack.

"Thank you. I'm sorry." He started breathing deeply, slowly regaining control. He wiped his eyes and took Becky's hands in his. He managed to look her in her eyes, which were also slightly bloodshot from crying. How did she still look so perfect even after crying for so long? "I love you, Becky Barnes. I don't know why you still want me, but…" he shrugged, smiling slightly. She smiled. Beneath it all, he was still the dork she fell for when they were kids. She moved her hand up to his face, wiping the remaining tears away with her thumb. She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I love you too, Tom." He smiled properly for the first time since they were in the cineplex (before then he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled properly). His smile didn't last, however, as he yawned shortly after.

"What time is it?" Becky asked, also yawning. Tom smirked. "What?"

"You look like a kitten yawning," he said awkwardly. She laughed lightly. He stared at the ground, until he remembered Becky had asked him a question. He checked his watch. "4:56. That means neither of us have slept in 24 hours." He suddenly felt very tired, struggling to keep his eyes open. Becky pulled the two of them to their feet. They both collapsed on the bed, and within a minute or two they'd ended up locked together in a tangle of limbs like they had done in school, holding each other as close as physically possible.

Perhaps things could be okay, Tom thought as he watched Becky fall asleep in his arms moments before he, himself, did the same. Maybe it'll be okay now.


End file.
